


Stepped In So Far

by jessalae



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodplay, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve got a minute in which to make me one very happy vampire.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepped In So Far

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "bloodplay" square on my card for round three of kink bingo; originally posted on my Dreamwidth August 26, 2010.

The sun rose bright and shockingly non-apocalyptic over Sunnydale, and Xander Harris was getting ready for another long day delivering pizza to stoned college kids. He knotted a towel tightly around his newly-showered waist and wiped the fog off the mirror, inspecting his morning crop of stubble.

He lathered up and splashed some water on his razor before getting down to business, navigating carefully under his chin and along the edge of his jaw. He surveyed his handiwork in the mirror, tilting his head this way and that, and was about to rinse himself off when he noticed a forgotten patch of shaving cream on the side of his neck. Peeved, he grabbed his razor off the edge of the sink and swiped it less-than-carefully over the spot.

He had just splashed himself with a faceful of cold water when his neck began to sting, and when he shook the droplets out of his eyes he saw a trickle of blood inching its way towards his collarbone. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed a scrap of toilet paper and stuck it to the cut before stalking out of the bathroom.

Spike was sulking on the lounge chair, and didn’t seem to notice Xander’s beeline for the basket of clean clothes on the dryer. It wasn’t until Xander headed back towards the bathroom, clutching his uniform shirt and a pair of jeans, that he noticed the vampire’s eyes were riveted on his face.

“What?” he snapped.

“Cut yourself shaving?” Spike asked mildly.

“Oh.” Xander brushed at his neck, peeling away the paper and inspecting the circle of blood. He blotted at the cut with a different corner of the paper and grimaced when he saw he was still bleeding. “Yeah.” With an uneasy feeling, he looked back at Spike, whose eyes were not actually riveted on his face after all.

“Looks like a nasty one,” Spike observed, his voice carefully level.

“It’ll heal,” Xander said sharply, practically diving back into the bathroom.

By the time he was dressed and otherwise ready to go, though, the cut was still bleeding, slowly but surely. He wavered in front of the bathroom door, not sure if he should go out, before sucking it up and barging into the main area of the basement.

Spike was no longer in his chair, and Xander did a double take that made his cut twinge when he noticed a blonde head lurking by the bathroom door. Spike was looking at him — or an inch-square area of him, at least — intensely, a fierce longing in his eyes.

Xander backed away from him, toward the door. “Uh-uh. No way. Noooo way.”

“Come on, just a taste,” Spike said, a high note of pleading in his voice. “It won’t even hurt, I promise.”

“It already hurts, you’d probably just make it worse, and also, no!”

“You have no idea what it’s like drinking out of a mug all the time,” Spike said. “Even when I do get the human stuff, it’s all… stale. It’s like — eating a frozen TV dinner when you could be having a perfectly grilled medium-rare steak. I’ll just take a tiny bit, you won’t even notice it’s gone.”

“One, no, and two, do you think comparing me to a steak is really going to make me say yes?”

“All right,” Spike said, taking a step toward Xander, who backed away. “All right,” he sighed, sounding defeated. “But you’ve got to do something about it, or you’re going to be staining your shirt in a moment. A shirt which I washed, I might add.” He slumped back into the lounge chair, but his eyes stayed fixed on Xander’s neck.

Xander eased past him back to the bathroom, and swore when he saw that Spike was right. He swiped at his neck angrily with a tissue, cursing again when the edges of the cut pulled apart, making it sting all over again.

He could feel Spike’s eyes on him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “It’ll close up in a minute,” he said, more to himself than anything.

“Then you’ve got a minute in which to make me one very happy vampire,” Spike wheedled from his chair.

“And I would want to do that because?”

“I’ll do your laundry. More laundry.”

“No.”

“Wash your dishes?”

“You don’t even wash yours!”

“I’ll wash mine _and_ yours, then. And do the laundry.”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you beer? Drugs? Fancy chocolate?”

“No, no, and no!”

“I’ll be silent for a day. Two days! I’ll sleep behind the couch, you won’t even know I’m here. I’ll let you kick me in the nads. I’ll give you some pointers on pleasing that demon girlfriend of yours—”

“Please, please, don’t do that,” Xander said, glaring at the still-bleeding cut in the mirror.

“Well, I’ll— I’ll— I don’t know, what the hell do you want?”

“I want you to shut up!” Xander snapped, stalking out of the bathroom and planting himself in front of the desperate vampire. “So just fucking do it already, or I’m going to be late for work!”

Spike stared at him, dumbfounded, then leapt to his feet, licking his lips in a way that made Xander pull back sharply.

“And just so we’re clear, if you do anything weird, I’ll hit you so hard it’ll make your chip headache feel like a mild case of brain-freeze,” he said, before tilting his chin back and bracing himself for whatever Spike had in mind.

Spike didn’t respond to his threat. Instead, he carefully peeled back the collar of Xander’s shirt, and Xander heard the slight crunch that meant he had shifted into vamp-face. He cradled the back of Xander’s neck in one cool hand, then bent his head down and lapped softly at the cut.

“Mmm,” he groaned, and pressed his lips gently to Xander’s skin, licking a broad stripe up the side of his neck and sucking ever-so-softly at the wound. Xander felt another pulse of blood rush out of him, but the cut didn’t even twinge. Spike sucked carefully, making little noises of pleasure, and his fingers began toying with Xander’s hair, twirling the strands and massaging his scalp.  
Xander felt his fear subside slightly, and he closed his eyes, relaxing in Spike’s grasp. Spike pulled away momentarily, gasping in a totally unnecessary breath.

“Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff,” he murmured, his words slightly garbled by his fangs. He leaned back in and licked further down Xander’s neck, catching a droplet that had escaped in the interval. He flicked his tongue over Xander’s pulse point before returning to the cut.

Xander’s mouth had fallen slightly open, and his breathing was growing more labored, but he stayed still in Spike’s grip, oblivious to anything but the brush of Spike’s lips over his skin, the smooth pressure of his tongue, the occasional scrape of teeth. After an indeterminate amount of time, Spike stop and stepped back, letting his hand fall away from Xander’s neck and his face slip back into its human-like appearance. Xander blinked, slightly confused.

“It’s closed up,” Spike said by way of explanation, a strange expression on his face.

“Oh,” Xander said intelligently. The world was coming a little more into focus, and he moved away from the vampire, remembering that there had been a reason he had refused in the first place. He didn’t quite know what that reason had been, but it must have been something.

“Thank you,” Spike said, like the words were in a language he didn’t speak.

“No pro—” Xander stopped mid sentence as he gained a bit more awareness of his surroundings, and suddenly wanted to be very, very far away from Spike. “Problem!” he finished as he dashed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He was almost hyperventilating, heart beating a mile a minute. Had he just… had he really just done that? And not even minded it, really? This was sick. This was beyond sick, this was _foul_. And on top of it all…

Xander looked down, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, fuck,” he said to the erection straining the front of his jeans.

 

Xander was seriously unnerved for the rest of the day. When he returned to the basement after work, Spike was mercifully absent, the only sign of him a stack of freshly-washed clothes folded carefully on the foot of Xander’s bed. Xander gingerly picked up a shirt, then decided it was too weird having Spike fold his clothes for him and shoved the whole pile helter-skelter into a drawer. He flicked on the TV and watched a _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ marathon without really seeing any of it, then turned out the lights and got under the covers, fully clothed. He was still awake when Spike stalked quietly in several hours later, but Xander stayed curled on his side, pretending to breathe deeply. Spike stripped off his coat and settled into his chair, relaxing with a contented sigh that sent shivers up Xander’s spine. Xander squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep.

When his alarm blared, he sat straight up and made a beeline for the bathroom, even though it felt like he had only been sleeping ten minutes. Determined to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s incident, he skipped shaving, and rushed out to work without giving Spike so much as a glare.

Over the next couple of days, Xander managed to relax enough to sleep, but restricted his contact with Spike to monosyllables and furtive glances. He avoided shaving for almost a week, until Anya told him frankly that she didn’t really mind the facial hair, but she had heard some things about lumberjacks and he was under no circumstances allowed to borrow her bra. Xander shaved off his patchy beard after that, but was careful to do it in the evening, when Spike was out.

He had just settled into a livable rhythm — wake up, shower, work, come home, check for Spike, shave, bed — when he decided to microwave himself some soup for dinner, and sliced his hand on the lid of the can.

“Fucking fuck _fuck_!” he spat, grabbing a towel and attempting to mop up some of the blood.

“Problem, Harris?” Spike drawled from the doorway.

Xander whirled to face him, silently panicking. “Just a scratch,” he growled, stalking into the bathroom and swapping the towel for a wad of toilet paper. “Fuck!” he muttered under his breath.

Once he had wiped away some of the blood, he could see that the cut wasn’t really that bad. It ran from the base of his palm up past the bottom of his thumb, but it wasn’t as deep as he had thought. It stung like a bitch, though, and was bleeding like it was going out of style. “Fuck,” he muttered again, more at the awkwardness of the situation than at the pain.

He stepped out of the bathroom just in time to catch Spike swiping his hand over the bloody countertop and licking his fingers, a look a bliss on his face. Xander stumbled back against the wall a little, his head spinning, and Spike’s eyes snapped over to him.

“Nasty cut you’ve got there,” he said, his voice perfectly toneless in a way that Xander now realized must take quite a bit of effort.

“Absolutely not,” Xander spat, holding the toilet paper fiercely to his palm. “You are not feeding from me again. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, not interested.”

“I wasn’t even going to suggest it,” Spike lied, leaning back against the counter.

“Right,” Xander said, and winced as his hand twinged sharply.

“You should get that looked at,” Spike suggested casually.

“Yeah, by someone who’ll treat it as an injury, not a midnight snack.”

Spike put on a hurt expression. “I’ve seen to some serious wounds in my time.”

“And how many of those wounds did you cause in the first place?”

“I’m only saying, you’re not going to be able to fix that up with one hand.”

“I can take care of myself.” Xander returned to the bathroom, fumbled a roll of gauze out of the medicine cabinet, and sat down on the toilet to wrap up his hand. After an excruciating moment of tugging at the end of the roll, though, he was forced to admit that this was actually a two-handed job.

He shuffled out of the bathroom, trying not to let his defeat show on his face. “All right, you were right. Can you give me a hand?”

Spike moved towards him warily. “I’ll just help you wrap it up, then?” he asked, clearly hoping the answer would be no.

Xander swallowed hard. The blood was soaking through the toilet paper, now, and he just wanted the whole ordeal to be over with. It would be just like Spike to drag things out until he wore down Xander’s resolve. Not that Xander had a lot of resolve left at the moment, what with the whole bleeding profusely thing. “Just… do what you think it needs,” he muttered.

Spike perked up. “What was that?”

Xander sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into. “Do whatever you have to do,” he said, offering his hand to Spike.

Spike crossed over to the bed cautiously, as if Xander was liable to spook at any sudden movements. He sat down next to Xander and took his hand carefully, peeling off the sodden toilet paper. He tsked quietly at the mess, then looked up, his gaze boring into Xander’s eyes.

“I should clean this up,” he said softly. “Can I…”

“Fine,” Xander said between gritted teeth.

Spike grinned wickedly and shifted his face, making Xander jump. “I really will buy you chocolate this time,” he said, before bringing Xander’s hand up to his mouth and licking carefully on one side of his cut, then the other. His tongue smoothed the torn skin into place, paying special attention to the end by Xander’s thumb. By the time he had finished, more blood had welled out of the lower half of the cut, and he dipped his head lower, to catch the droplets before they fell. He traced the curve of Xander’s palm with his mouth, lapping up the smudges of blood, then returned to the cut, sliding his tongue gently up its entire length. He bent to catch a drop that had snaked its way down Xander’s wrist, and sucked gently at his pulse point.

Xander was intent on staying aware this time, but he was beginning to think that maybe his oblivion had been a blessing. This forced him to concentrate on every motion of Spike’s head, every sweep of his tongue, every little moan that seemed to start way down in his chest before it escaped past his lips. The ache in his hand had subsided, only to be replaced by an ache in his cock, which was pushing desperately against the front of his pants. Breathing was getting more and more difficult, and he bit his lip when Spike’s teeth rasped over his knuckle, fighting back a moan. God, the things he could do with his mouth… Xander caught himself wondering what that mouth would feel like on his lips, on his cock, and for an awful moment he was torn between locking himself in the bathroom and dragging Spike’s head up to kiss him. Unable to entirely dismiss either option, he stayed paralyzed on the bed, trying not to imagine that Spike’s cool fingers could be anywhere but encircling his wrist, cradling his hand.

Spike stopped his ministrations, holding Xander’s hand against his mouth, and sighed. To Xander’s surprise, he planted a soft kiss on the cut, then picked up the roll of gauze and began to bandage Xander’s injury.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed. “Just don’t try and do too much, or you’ll open it up again.” He looked up, and seemed surprised to see Xander staring at him, panting slightly, longing written large across his face. He shifted back to his usual face, still holding Xander’s hand, and the confusion faded from his expression.

“What is it you want, Harris?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. Xander realized they were both leaning forward, that their faces were very close. He also realized he didn’t really care.

“I—.” He couldn’t get the word out, couldn’t bear to say it. _You, I want you_. He just kept leaning towards Spike, closing the gap between them millimeter by millimeter. Spike’s eyes were blazing with a kind of hunger Xander hadn’t seen before, and Xander wanted to feel it, wanted to taste the energy that kept propelling him closer and closer.

He nearly moaned in frustration when Spike stopped, his lips practically brushing Xander’s.

“What?” Spike whispered, his breath ghosting into Xander’s mouth, and Xander could hear the smirk in his voice.

Xander was suddenly, furiously angry. “Nothing,” he practically shouted, standing up so quickly that Spike was thrown off-balance. He jerked his hand out of Spike’s grip, wincing as the edges of the cut pulled apart, and moved over to the counter. He dumped the forgotten soup out of the can into a bowl, his every motion jerky and full of rage. Droplets of soup splashed over the side of the bowl, mingling with the half-dried blood on the counter. He shoved the bowl into the microwave and pounded the appropriate buttons as if they had insulted his mother. When the timer was set, he whirled and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door.

How dare Spike laugh at him? Who the hell did he think he was? Who the hell did he think _Xander_ was, for that matter? Certainly not someone who would be turned on by a vampire sucking his blood, that’s for sure. Definitely not the kind of freak who would be harder than he had ever been in his life because a soulless fiend decided he would make a good snack. Xander slammed his good hand down on the edge of the sink in frustration, then slumped down onto the toilet and cradled his head in his hands.

The timer on the microwave beeped, but Xander didn’t leave the bathroom until he heard the outside door shut quietly a few minutes later. By the time he emerged, Spike was long gone, and Xander stood staring absently at the door until his soup had gone cold. He cursed halfheartedly and dumped it down the sink, then crawled into bed and slipped into blissful oblivion.

 

Xander had thought he was used to awkward. Hell, he had thought he was awkward personified. Unfortunately, he had never even dreamed of the levels of awkwardness that ensued over the next few days. He and Spike barely spoke, which wasn’t unusual in and of itself, but the weird, simmering tension in their silence was definitely new. They seemed to be reacting to it differently, though — while Xander was now going out of his way to avoid being close to Spike, Spike seemed to be taking any opportunity to touch Xander. Not anything obvious, of course. Just little touches: brushing against Xander on his way out the door, resting a hand fleetingly on Xander’s shoulder as they bent over a map of one crypt or another, running his fingers over Xander’s wrist as he reached for the TV remote. It was driving Xander slightly crazy.

Worse even than the touching, though, was Spike’s increasingly casual relationship with clothing. While Xander now brought his clothes into the bathroom before he showered, up to and including his socks, Spike had taken to lounging in his chair in a way that made his shirt ride up his stomach, exposing inches of taut muscle. This quickly escalated into hanging around with no shirt on at all, one hand splayed across perfect abs in a manner so casual Xander was sure it must have taken hours of practice. One time Xander walked in from work and Spike was sitting sideways in the chair, legs draped over the arm and hands linked behind his head, wearing his leather coat with no shirt underneath. The sight made Xander’s mouth go dry, and he stammered something about going to Giles’s house to research before dashing back out the door. He actually just drove around the block for a while, then parked a few houses down and waited until he saw a familiar blonde figure heading towards the cemetery.

Everything came to a head about five days after the Hand Incident, as Xander had taken to calling it. It was 90 degrees out, and after a day standing at a cash register with ovens blasting behind him, he was absolutely desperate for a shower. He glanced around the basement, searching for signs of Spike, and when he didn’t find anything, he began stripping off his clothing on his way to the bathroom. He was down to his boxers when he tugged the bathroom door open and came face-to-face with a very surprised, very wet, very naked vampire.

Xander froze, feet glued to the floor, heart suddenly pounding. Half the cells in his body were screaming for him to shriek, turn away, curl into a little ball, anything to avoid what he was seeing. The other half were insisting he grab Spike then and there, feel all that pale skin and muscle against his chest, find out what fresh-out-of-the-shower vampire tasted like.  
Spike’s eyes were caught staring into his, and he looked almost as torn as Xander felt. _What,_ Xander thought wildly, _he’s spent all this effort riling me up and now he doesn’t know what to do with me? Some sex god he is._

The only sound was the slow drip of water running off of Spike and onto the tile floor of the bathroom. Spike opened his mouth and shut it again. His eyes traveled slowly down Xander’s body, over surprisingly well-formed pectorals and abs down to the growing tent in his boxers, then snapped back up to his face. There was no hint of a smirk now in his expression now, just lust tinged with a bit of uncertainty.

“Harris,” he said, his voice rasping in his throat a bit.

“Spike,” Xander said, almost choking on the word.

“Wasn’t expecting you home,” Spike said, and they were doing that leaning thing again, their faces inching closer.

“Oh,” Xander said, not sure that was really the right response, not sure he cared. Not where there was nearly six feet (plus a very nice seven inches) of delicious vampire standing right in front of him, gradually shifting to exactly where Xander wanted him to be.

When their lips were almost close enough to touch, Spike stopped again, and Xander had a momentary panic attack, thinking he was going to say something again and ruin the moment. Instead, Spike exhaled carefully, breathing into Xander’s mouth, and the latter half of Xander abruptly won the argument. He crashed his lips against Spike’s, kissing him hungrily, angrily, pouring a week’s worth of frustration and lust into it. And Spike, oh, god, Spike was kissing back, that marvelous tongue sliding past Xander’s lips and slicking across teeth, better than anything Xander had imagined. Xander grabbed Spike’s shoulders, and Spike apparently took that as a sign that touching was okay now because his hands were everywhere, on the back of Xander’s neck, tangling in his hair, squeezing his bicep, sliding down his back, cupping his ass. Xander moaned and pulled Spike against him, wanting more, more, more, and their erections brushed together through the fabric of Xander’s boxers.

The shudder that coursed through Xander’s body spurred Spike into action. He planted his hands on Xander’s hips and moved them out of the bathroom, kissing him all the while. The back of Xander’s calves hit the edge of the bed, and Spike stopped, pulling back for a second. He looked into Xander’s eyes, his expression managing to ask permission and threaten to ignore any refusal all at once.

Xander let out a strangled groan and wove a hand through Spike’s hair, tugging him in for another kiss, the motion sending them both toppling back onto the bed. Spike writhed above him, his erection surprisingly warm against Xander’s stomach. Xander desperately wanted his boxers to disappear, and he scooted fully onto the bed, dragging Spike with him and pulling his hands to the waistband. Long fingers snaked under the cotton, pulling it away from overheated skin, and Xander whimpered into Spike’s mouth as his cock sprang free. Spike broke their kiss to pull Xander’s boxers all the way off his legs, then crawled up his body again, lined their cocks up carefully, and ground against Xander.

Xander arched his back, trying to create more friction, and Spike let out a shuddering groan. “God, yeah,” he growled, jerking his hips against Xander’s. He planted a rough kiss on the corner of Xander’s mouth, tongue swiping across his lips, then pulled Xander’s head back by the hair, baring his throat. Xander was momentarily terrified, but Spike just kissed the side of his neck, licked around the curve of his jaw, sucked on his earlobe, making amazing noises the whole time.

“Want you,” he gasped, grazing Xander’s pulse point with his teeth. “Don’t bloody care anymore, wanted you since I first tasted you, wanted _this_ ,” and he wrapped his fingers around Xander’s cock and stroked roughly. Xander sucked in a sharp breath, using all his willpower not to come. His cock was painfully hard, precum leaking freely from the tip, and when Spike smoothed his thumb over the head Xander nearly screamed, it was so good. He grabbed Spike’s ass and rocked into him, and Spike laughed, low and dangerous and oh-so-sexy.

“Easy there,” he said, gathering both their cocks in one hand and stroking, long, slow sweeps that had Xander’s eyes rolling back in his head. “Don’t want things getting too out of hand too quickly, yeah?”

Xander couldn’t respond, couldn’t nod, couldn’t even breathe. The pressure of Spike’s hand on his cock, of Spike’s cock on his cock, was just too amazing. As he squeezed his eyes shut and relaxed into Spike’s touch, though, an idea struck hin. He fought his way through the fog of arousal and grabbed Spike’s wrist, gasping, “Wait!”

Spike stopped, looking like he wasn’t going to wait for an explanation for very long. Xander squirmed so his upper body was free and rummaged under the bed, growling in frustration until his fingers closed over the object he was looking for. He brought it up, and Spike’s eyes widened, his cock twitching against Xander’s.

“Oh, yes, pet,” he hissed silkily. “Now that is a brilliant idea.”

Xander grinned and carefully flicked open the pocket knife. He propped himself up on one elbow and brought the blade to his skin, letting it rest just below his collarbone. Spike’s eyes were hungry again, in both the normal way and the new, lust-filled way, and Xander felt a bit light-headed, knowing he was the cause of that hunger. He drew a shaky breath, then slowly let it out, pushing the knife past his skin and making a shallow cut about an inch long.

Spike moaned wantonly, taking his eyes off the bleeding cut only long enough to catch Xander’s nod of encouragement. He shifted his face and lowered his head to Xander’s chest, licking at the wound, chasing a drop down the slope of Xander’s pectoral and pausing to let his tongue flick over Xander’s nipple. Xander gasped, the initial pain of the cut long gone, drowned out by the intense pleasure of Spike’s mouth on his skin, sucking his blood gently and then not-so-gently. He grabbed his cock and Spike’s in one hand and tugged, setting a fast pace, knowing neither of them would last long. Spike bucked against his hand. His mouth stayed sealed over the cut, but Xander thought he heard him speak, something along the lines of “Fuck, just like that.”

 _All right_ , thought Xander, and continued stroking, bringing his other hand up to grab Spike’s ass. He was so, so close, but somewhere in the haze of arousal was a desire to hold off, to make Spike come first, show him that a hundred and fifty years of experience meant nothing without a little self control. He jerked Spike’s cock quickly, running a thumb over the head every time he pulled the foreskin back, adding a little twist as he pulled it forward. Spike suddenly tensed, going absolutely still, and Xander kept pumping his cock, increasing the pace, as Spike shuddered and came hard all over Xander’s stomach.

Spike pulled his mouth away from Xander’s chest with a soft popping sound and a deep moan, reverted back to his human face, and kissed Xander deeply, tasting of blood and desire. Xander thrust his hips up, loving the slide of his cock against Spike’s sweat-slick abdomen, and groaned in disappointment when that surface disappeared. He groaned for entirely different reasons, however, when Spike’s tongue caressed his inner thigh, and Spike’s hands nudged his legs apart. He watched Spike’s mouth, stained red with blood, as Spike swiped his tongue over Xander’s balls, rolling one in his mouth, and then licked a long stripe up Xander’s cock. He circled the head of Xander’s cock with the tip of his tongue, teasing along his slit, then opened up and swallowed him whole. The sight of Spike’s red lips wrapped around the base of his cock sent Xander crashing over the edge, and he pulsed down Spike’s throat, yelling “Oh, yes!”

Afterwards he was panting, boneless, and it occurred to him that the cut on his chest was still bleeding sluggishly. Spike had collapsed between his legs, head resting on his pubic bone, one hand curled over his thigh. He glanced up at Xander, grinning, and propped himself up on his arms.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he drawled.

His amusement was probably at Xander’s expense, but Xander was beyond caring. “I didn’t either, to be honest,” he said.

Spike rolled carefully off of him and stood, stretching. “You realize I now have a guaranteed way to make you let me feed from you,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“There are worse things,” Xander replied.


End file.
